


Toy

by DirtyKnots



Series: Kinktober 2019 [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Body Horror, Dark Peter Hale, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Forced Anal, Human butt plug, M/M, Macro/Micro, Magic, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Rape, Spells & Enchantments, Vore, forced rimming, full body anal insertion, human dildo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 19:10:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20980922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/pseuds/DirtyKnots
Summary: Kinktober 2019: Day 10 - Macro/MicroEveryone knew Peter was a monster, nobody probably realized exactly how monstrous he really was.





	Toy

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE TAGS. Seriously. This is 100% rape, not at all consensual, no room for interpretation. Do not pass go, do not get fluffy feels.

Stiles blinks awake, trying desperately to remember what happened. He remembered storming into the loft and confronting Peter about the shitstorm he'd caused with the witches, remembered the man laughing at him, and then something blue and sparkly was being blown in his face and he was coughing and Peter was advancing, and then...nothing. His eyes finally focus and everything looks...off. Wrong somehow. He can't quite pinpoint it. He tries to move, to speak, and realizes he can't. He can feel his body, feel the way his mouth is open, tongue hanging out. Can feel spit slipping down his face because he can't swallow. Eventually, he manages a weird sort of raspy keening noise.

"Oh, you're awake, good." Peter's voice echoes like thunder and Stiles wonders if there's anyone else around to hear him yelling. And also why he's yelling when Stiles is right here. He gets his answer a moment later when Peter lumbers into view. Somehow he's managed to grow himself and now he's a giant, towering over Stiles. Except no, that isn't right either. Only Stiles doesn't realize until Peter has picked him up in one seemingly massive hand. Because unless Peter managed to make everything else giant, the answer is that somehow Stiles has been shrunk. 

Stiles' eyes catalogue everything he can see as Peter lifts him, recognizes the old Hale house basement, mostly unchanged save for a mattress and a bag shoved in the corner next to an electric lantern. Stiles tries again in vain to move when Peter's thumb presses over his crotch and he realizes he's naked. Peter just stares at him eyes crinkling like he knows Stiles is trying to get away.

"Don't bother trying to fight it, the magic is solid. Your body is useless unless I move it." Stiles realizes he's right pretty quickly, he can't even pull his tongue back in his mouth for fucks sake. It seems like the only control he has over any part of him are his eyes. He can blink and close them and look around as much as he can strain them, but that's it. He can't even feel if his lungs are expanding, if he's even breathing. 

"I couldn't believe my luck when you guys took out the witches for me. Didn't even need to render payment for their services, or worry that they'd tell you why they were here." Stiles makes another keening noise and Peter laughs darkly. "Oh don't worry, you'll be finding out soon enough."

Peter walks over to the mattress and Stiles feels like he should be panicking, but his heartbeat, however faint, is steady as a drum and his lungs aren’t working. Small mercies maybe, since he wouldn’t be able to do anything for himself in this state anyhow. Stiles is set on the pillow, face up, body still stiff and unyielding as Peter stretches before divesting himself of his clothing. The mental urge to panic is even stronger, but there’s no physical difference and he’s not sure if that’s worse or better. Peter does something out of view, but Stiles can hear the shuffling of things and assumes he’s digging in the bag that was next to the mattress, an assumption proven right when Peter straightens again with a smirk, bottle of lube clutched in one hand.

“I’ve wanted my very own toy for so long, something to use and abuse and keep. How could I resist when a prime candidate just waltzed in the front door. I never thought I’d get the chance to bed you, to feel that smartass mouth of yours on my body, but everything just...lined right up for me.” Peter’s dropped down on the mattress on his knees, lube poured over his fingers and hand situated beneath himself. Stiles can’t see what he’s doing, but he can guess. He’s horrified but the only thing he can do is make that awful keening noise, close his eyes. Except, then he can’t see what Peter’s doing at all, so he’s surprised when a wet palm begins to slide over his body. He snaps his eyes back open when the hand lifts, sees Peter pour more lube into it before it’s back, lifting and turning him until every inch of his body has been generously coated save for his face.

“I do wish you could talk, would love to be able to hear you beg and cry. But I don’t want the risk of you biting anything vital. I was so excited when the witches had an answer for all of my troublesome scenarios. I’m not sure how the breathing thing works exactly, didn’t bother asking of course, but I know you won’t suffocate, and that’s all I really care about. Don’t want to break my brand new toy on it’s first outing.” Peter shifts, Stiles still gripped tight in his hand, until he’s laying back. He smirks at Stiles and winks before his hand drops down, Stiles getting a fast forward and up close view of Peter’s body as he’s moved lower and lower. Stiles can feel tears leak out of the corners of his eyes when he comes face to...ass. Because that’s where Peter’s hand stills, with Stiles’ face mere centimeters from Peter’s hair matted hole. The smell is thick, musky and dank and unpleasant, and Stiles wonders how the fuck he can even smell if he’s not breathing, but before he can try to puzzle it out, to try to see if there’s some solution to this entire mess that he’s missing somehow, Peter pushes Stiles’ head into his hole. Not all the way, not quite, not yet, but enough that Stiles’ open mouth seems to be hooked over it, tongue flush against the flesh. It tastes as awful as it smells, sweat and lube and god knows what else. More tears spring free as Peter begins to twist Stiles slowly, rubbing his stuck open mouth and tongue all around his rank hole.

“Oh fuck, that’s even better than I imagined. Your mouth feels glorious Stiles, you should be proud. I imagine it would feel even better if your tongue was bigger, if I could ride it like a cock and feel you sucking on my ass, but I’ll take what I can get.” Stiles would be sobbing if he had a breath to catch and heave. The taste makes his stomach do a sort of fluttering roil, but he can’t tell if it’s his imagination because he feels even more disconnected from his body than he did moments ago. It’s worse when Peter starts shallowly thrusting him as he twists, Stiles’ entire head disappearing behind the tight ring of his rim only to pop back out. And Stiles isn’t wrong, he is becoming more disconnected, whether by magic or his own mind trying to protect him. His eyes are refusing his command to close, staying firmly open each time his face is plunged inside. It’s dark, the only light seeping in around his neck and shoulders, but he gets impressions. Slickness and red, and he doesn’t even know what. It’s horrible. Worse than having his mouth hooked over Peter’s rim, his tongue and face sliding against Peter’s insides.

“You’re so deliciously broad-shouldered, even shrunk down to eight inches. The stretch feels better than any cock I’ve had recently.” Peter’s words are lost when he pushes Stiles back in again, this time shoving him further, grip tight just above Stiles’ feet, using them like the base of a dildo to keep a good hold. Stiles can feel the way Peter’s body opens around him, feel the constriction of the muscles as they part and his slicked skin glides against them. He’s crying in earnest now, can feel his face getting as wet as the rest of him, tongue being dragged deeper and deeper inside of Peter. And that’s when he realizes his thought wasn’t wrong. Peter’s holding him, using him, just like a dildo because that’s what he is now. The magic has turned him into a living sex toy. The thought hammers home in time to Peter’s thrusts as he forces Stiles’ body in and out of himself, fucking down over him. Stiles screams inside of his mind, begs and pleads with his body to react, for a finger to twitch, for his eyes to close again, for his lungs to expand, for something, anything to happen, but nothing changes.

Peter fucks Stiles into himself with more and more force and Stiles is sure something in him will break, but the spell that holds him rigid keeps his body safe from injury. It goes on forever, the squelching sounds as he’s pounded deep inside of Peter’s ass, the painful grip on his feet, the overwhelming scent and taste of Peter’s body, the tears streaming down his face and just helping to make that glide more easily. It feels like a lifetime has passed before Stiles is shoved in hard, one last time, his head painfully making contact with Peter’s insides, the muscles around him contracting, squeezing so tight he feels like he should be crushed, like his body should be creaking from the strain. He wishes he would be, could be. Wishes he could at least pass out, but he doesn’t. Ever so slowly, even as the muscles in Peter’s ass still ripple with contractions, Stiles is pulled free. Peter lifts him enough to look Stiles in the eye, relishing the tears he sees if his smug satisfaction is anything to go by.

“That was the best orgasm I’ve had in years, you should be extra proud of yourself. You make an excellent toy, so warm and different from a dildo.” Stiles doesn’t even bother making that keening sound, knows it’ll only make Peter happier. He does his best to convey with his eyes that he’ll find a way free, that Peter will pay. All that earns him is another laugh and then Peter’s free hand is coming up to coat him in another layer of slick - Peter’s come if the smell is anything to go by. “Not quiet broken yet I see. Good. I’m not done with you, far from it. Let’s see if anyone notices anything off today.”

Stiles feels the world tilt as Peter stands, and then he’s being moved again, back towards Peter’s ass, and he realizes what Peter was getting at. He does keen then, hears cruel laughter as he’s pushed back inside of Peter until his feet bump against the man’s rim, stopping him from being swallowed all the way up. He can feel the shift and bunch and squeeze as Peter bends down, can feel rough cotton against the soles of his feet as Peter puts his underwear back on. The darkness and silence is all consuming, but he can feel the sway as Peter moves, as he prepares to go about his day while Stiles is shrunk, trapped inside his own body, pushed deep in Peter’s ass like a living plug. And there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Come prompt me on [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/dirtyknots).  
All of my additional contact information can be found on my [Profile Page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/profile)!


End file.
